Footprints (Rogue Angel, Book 20)
Alex Archer, Jon F. Merz
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
"When her longtime friend claims to have evidence of Big Foot's existence, archaeologist Annja Creed can't resist checking it out for herself - she's been debating the subject for years. Annja's curiosity leads her deep into the woods of the Pacific Northwest, to meet Jenny where the supposed trail has been left by the one and only Sasquatch. But when Annja arrives at the destination, a group of armed thugs warn her to leave the area, and her friend is nowhere to be found. Now the search for Sasquatch turns into a rescue mission, and Annja has only her instincts to guide her in a forest full of predators, scavengers and spirits. And someone, or something, does not want her there ..."--Amazon.com.
Their progress and, in places, the pines dipped so low that Annja had to duck repeatedly to avoid getting her eyes poked out. Her breathing came fast and hard and, despite being bone cold earlier, the pace of the trek heated her up until she started to sweat. She could feel the rivulets running down her back and face. Her breath bellowed huge clouds of steam with every exhalation. But still Joey kept moving. Annja realized at some point that they weren't on the main trail any longer. Joey was.
Nicer than the exterior had led her to believe. A large stone fireplace occupied the central place in the living room. Beautiful, intricate Native American tapestries hung from the walls. The floor was covered in a thick rug that looked like bearskin, although she couldn't be sure. She chose the threadbare recliner to sit in and marveled at how comfortable it was. Her spine relaxed into it and the cushions adjusted perfectly to her frame. Joey's grandfather smiled. "Comfy chair, ain't it?".
Down I'll have Tom set you out a great spread." "Tom?" Sheila indicated over her beefy shoulder. "Husband. He works the grill in back. Not much of a front-counter man, but he can cook like no one's business. Really knows how to make you a good eat." "Awesome." Sheila pointed. "Up two flights, around the corner. Call me when you're coming down." Annja started toward the steps and then stopped. "Say, Sheila?" "Yep?" Annja ran her hands over her clothes. "You don't, by any chance—" "There's a robe.
Faces. Every one of them is terrified. Being confronted with guns isn't a normal occurrence for these kids. And they're probably considering very seriously the idea that they came close to being killed. If I let them go like this, they'll wander off the trail and die from exposure. You know that's true." Joey nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. They do look pretty shell-shocked." "As opposed to you." "I left, man. I don't stick around for trouble. That's bad medicine." "Well, do me this one.
The jerk, anyway?" "He's dead. Over there." Joey looked beyond Annja's shoulder and nodded. "Serves him right. I can't believe he was using this place. Disgusting that he soiled the beauty of nature so much." Joey looked around. "Where's his partner in crime?" "In the cave they stashed us in this morning. She's dead, too." "You killed her?" Annja shook her head. "Not me. Jenny." Joey grinned. "Nice one for her. Where is she?" Annja pointed. "She's dead, Joey." Joey looked back at Annja. "What?.